


The Stairs of Olympus

by Copper_mouth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alpha Peter Parker, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom Tony Stark, M/M, Mates, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No Underage Sex, No heat sex though, Older Man/Younger Man, Omega Tony Stark, POV Outsider, Peter is 22 y'all, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Peter Parker, a little Tony angst, infinity war? never heard of her, it gets really sappy honestly, only for one part though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 03:44:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20923622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copper_mouth/pseuds/Copper_mouth
Summary: Four different takes on Alpha Peter/Omega Tony - can be read together or separately.





	1. Tony's heat hits in Asgard

**Author's Note:**

> So this started out as 4 different scenes I had in mind with Peter Parker as an Alpha and Tony Stark as an Omega. Somehow, they wound up fitting together and can be read as one chronological story, or they can be read separately if you like. I actually wrote them in this order: Chapter 3, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, so, go figure. I've reordered them to flow more naturally but please note Chapter 3 is a separate scene from Chapter 2 and does not follow immediately after.
> 
> Also, in this story there are no underage sex/relationships. Peter is 22 and he and Tony didn't really start spending a lot of time together until after he had graduated high school. *shrugs* I'd say DLDR but I'm not sure how far that actually goes these days.

It took three days for Tony’s heat to break. 

The Asgardians were besides themselves with worry, never having had to deal with the vagaries of secondary genders themselves, and Peter had to step into the hall every time Tony fell asleep to assuage their concern and ask them to please stop pacing back and forth in front of the door to their chamber. 

They’re eager to be helpful though, had been ever since Tony’s heat hit unexpectedly on the second day of their visit and Peter had told them, no, they will not be traveling home over the Bifrost with Tony in this condition but if they could just have a few days of privacy everything would be sorted out and they could continue on with their diplomatic endeavors. 

Chilled water was brought to their door hourly and then replaced if it reached room temperature before Peter needed it, along with fresh fruits he’d never seen before and a variety of soaps and balms and the softest towels he’d ever felt in his life. 

Peter had already requested a bath drawn and a meal of clear broth and fresh bread for when Tony’s heat broke – he thought letting them know there was something they could do to be helpful was more effective at appeasing their apprehension than anything else he could tell them, so he didn’t fight their well-meaning if incessant generosity. 

They’ll probably have to burn the sheets off the bed by the time it’s all said and done. 

Peter wondered if it would be more offensive to mentally thank Odin or to not thank him for the fact that Tony’s one chosen traveling companion was an alpha. And arguably more importantly, for the fact that it wass _him_. He was one of the few who had been entrusted with Tony’s most closely guarded secret, after all. And he and Tony had been spending so much time together that he was pretty certain he had crossed into the coveted territory of trusted alpha in the omega’s mind…at least he hoped so. 

Then, he could barely think at all, caught in the undercurrent of alpha instincts and swept summarily out to sea. 

Being with Tony during his heat was simultaneously the worst and best thing that had ever happened to him. 

The best because Tony had immediately turned to him in those first gasping moments and told Peter he trusted him to take care of him through it. To say Peter had been floored would perhaps be an understatement. To say Peter was beyond honored and humbled and grateful to the point of tears would definitely be an understatement. 

On the other hand, it was the worst because Tony had never given Peter consent to touch him, Peter would never ever expect Tony to give Peter consent to touch him, because being in heat didn’t change anything else and Tony didn’t think about Peter in that way and they did not have that kind of relationship. So Peter had to spend several days trying to keep his wits about him in the face of the single greatest temptation, as far as he was concerned, in all the nine realms. 

Each second of Tony’s heat saw the inside of Peter’s chest collapsing and expanding like the last throbs of a dying star as he cycled through the elation of being able to care for Tony and the exquisite torture of having the one person he wanted within his reach but still unequivocally, painstakingly outside of it. 

Tony warned him before he was too far gone, that when he was deep in the throes of it he always lost his head completely. That he wouldn’t really understand what was going on, that he was going to be completely at Peter’s mercy. 

Then he had smiled and said, “I trust you, kid. I know you’ll do right by me.” And Peter was gobsmacked, thrust without warning into ecstasy of the highest order, that wasn’t dimmed but instead stoked by the heavy weight of the responsibility he had been entrusted with. 

The first day was difficult, though. 

Soon after they had retreated to their rooms, Tony looked at Peter with pupils blown wide with arousal and not one ounce of recognition in them. 

Somehow, Peter got him onto the bed as the omega wrenched off his clothes and groaned, writhing into the sheets. He knew, in a dazed sort of way, that the fabrics of most clothing would be unbearable to the sensitivity of skin during a heat, but he hadn’t been prepared for the actuality of Tony’s naked body, bared to the world and so beautiful Peter’s teeth actually hurt. 

He was achingly hard in seconds as sight and smells assaulted him at once, and he had to grit his teeth to even be able to palm roughly at himself, so turned on and abruptly oversensitive it hurt. 

As his reached in between his own legs in an unthinking bid for relief, Tony’s eyes rolled over to him and he started inching away from Peter on the bed before hesitating, instincts warring in indecision. 

Peter realized at once what the sight of an alpha grabbing his cock would mean to Tony in his current state; he did his best to stifle a moan as he forced his hands up and away. 

“Tony, Tony, it’s me,” he said, slowly laying his head down on the pillow beside Tony and doing his best to project calmness and safety. 

It was clear that Tony had not been exaggerating earlier when he’d told Peter he wouldn’t know anything that was going on, for he looked at Peter with wide eyes, fear conflicting with desire, but obviously unaware of what was going on and who he was with. 

Peter handed him the knotted toy that Tony apparently always carried with him in case of emergencies and continued speaking to him in a low voice as one of Tony’s hands skated down the length of his torso to disappear into the heat below. 

For the life of him Peter had no idea what he was saying, but dark eyes stayed trained on his as Tony’s lips parted on an inhale and a soft squelching noise echoed like a gunshot in Peter’s ears. 

The entire day Tony watched him warily, clearly torn between coming closer to an alpha who could ease his passion and moving away to a safe distance from someone who could easily take advantage of him. 

Tony being scared of him in his addled state was even worse than the frankly ludicrous appeal of Tony pleasuring himself endlessly in Peter’s sights. 

He supposed it was a victory in its own right that he was being seen as trustworthy enough for Tony to want to be anywhere near him for the comfort an alpha can bring to an omega in heat and hadn’t thrust himself off the bed to get away from him or recoiled from him completely. 

The next day was somehow worse. 

Tony had apparently decided somewhere in his pleasure-ridden mind that Peter was not a threat in the slightest, and so that other drive he had grappling with yesterday seemed to win out. 

Peter woke up with an armful of panting omega, one sticky hand clutching his shoulder and the other already pushing the toy inside. 

Tony breathed the air right out of Peter’s lips as he stared into his eyes and _groaned_. 

Pulled from sleep with the suddenness of a foot missing a step going down a flight of stairs, every passing moment of Peter’s life seemed to hang in the air around him, coalescing into one crystalline second as long as the dark pools of Tony’s eyes were deep. 

Everything rushed down in a cyclone to balance briefly on the infinite width of a pinhead – and then it spilled over the side and time moved forward, sights bled color and he could hear again. 

Tony whined a little as he was pushed backward across the bed but didn’t stop his ministrations even as he made his displeasure about his removal known. 

Thus began the single longest day of Peter’s not-uneventful life so far. 

Without the distraction of Tony’s reservations from the day before, there was nothing to divert Peter’s attention from the full glory of the gasping, shaking, magnificent mess of omega before him. And not just any omega – _Tony_, he called over and over in his brain like a mantra that probably spilled more than once over his lips if he was being at all honest with himself. 

Hooded eyes held his as Tony hummed and made approving little noises at him. Hands roved sensitive skin, causing the muscles underneath to jump and quiver as beads of sweat rolled down in a river over his body. Tony’s breath caught every time he circled his fingers around his length, and he hardly ever ceased his rhythm with the other hand between his legs. He cried out every time he came, and he never broke eye contact with Peter even as he peaked and toppled over again. 

Peter held his gaze and murmured nothing-words all day, and he didn’t touch him. 

By the time Tony fell asleep the second day, Peter was a wrung out disaster. He stumbled out of the room to fetch a damp cloth and startled the attendants milling about with his wide eyes and shaking knees. His throat was so dry he was almost incapable of speech and could only croak out his stammering thanks before ensconcing himself within their room again. 

He stared unblinking, unthinking at the ceiling for a long time that night before he could feel anything again, much less the stirrings of exhaustion. It felt almost as if he had survived a great trial by fire, like he had run the gauntlet, walked over the coals, obtained the golden fleece and reached some semblance of victory only to collapse at the top of the stairs to Olympus. 

He watched visions of lightning and figures dancing silhouetted in front of the stars behind his eyes for long hours until he finally reached sleep. 

When Peter woke on the third day, he was at peace with the world, and almost unbearably warm. He basked for only a moment, but when he opened his eyes he was greeted with Tony’s smiling visage, watching him calmly from within the circle of his arms. 

“Hey,” he breathed, and Tony’s smile grew bigger. 

Peter’s breath caught in his throat, because the look in Tony’s eyes – he _knew_ him, he was back, he was aware of himself and remembered who Peter was, but. Peter took a tentative breath and frowned in confusion. Tony was cognizant, but he could tell that his heat wasn’t over from mouth-watering smell that still permeated their space. 

Tony had said he was never aware of himself or anything during his heat, caught so deeply in the desperate mires of an omega without even a candidate for a mate. But the way he was looking at Peter – he knew who Peter was, he was recognizing him during his heat, and he was settling into himself like a decision had been confronted and then made. 

“Tony?” Peter asked, voice cracking. Everything he felt had to be written across his face as clear and bright as the first rays of the morning sun. Tony’s smile gentled and he nodded, though he didn’t say anything. 

Tony leaned back and settled on Peter’s bicep contentedly, casting a warm glance up at Peter from underneath his lashes. 

Peter’s breath kept catching in his throat. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he permitted himself to reach up and smooth back Tony’s hair from his exultant face. 

That day Tony didn’t watch him with fear and uncertainty. He didn’t watch him with mindless, unbridled lust, either. 

The third day Tony took care of himself from the safety of Peter’s arms, lips turned up at the corners and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling up at him merrily. 

On that day, the only thing in his eyes was love. 


	2. Bonding

Carefully he hid the tremor in his hand as he led them towards the penthouse bedroom. He was nervous, yes, but not for negative reasons, and he didn’t want Peter to see and worry himself into misinterpreting how Tony was feeling. 

If someone had told him this would be the outcome of him meeting the young vigilante eight years ago he would have called them crazy. Hell, if someone had tried to tell him even four years ago before they started spending more time together that Peter Parker would eventually be the alpha that he chose – that he would even chose an alpha at all – he still would have tried to have them committed. 

But at some point in between Peter blowing everyone out of the water in college and becoming a full-fledged superhero and Avenger and somehow insinuating himself so thoroughly into both Tony’s personal and professional life that his projects covered at least a third of Tony’s workshop and he was making dinner three nights a week in Tony’s kitchen, it had happened. 

And when his heat had hit unexpectedly early (and he was ignoring the little voice in his head that had very strong opinions about _why_ his heat had started after two days of uninterrupted contact with the young alpha), he had been surprised to feel no measure of panic whatsoever at being stuck halfway across the galaxy while his reproductive system staged a mutiny. He had been thoroughly, one hundred percent at ease, no trepidation at all. 

Because Peter was there. And Tony knew he could count on him. 

He could trust Peter to take him in his hands during his most vulnerable time and release him on the other side as safe and hale as a man like Tony Stark could ever be. 

There was no fighting his feelings after that. No questioning Peter’s either. 

Or, so he tried. 

It was impossible for Tony to figure out if his desire to protest Peter’s choice of himself stemmed from legitimate concern for Peter’s best interests or the blatant insecurity that had always plagued him and seemed to rear its head even more often in the face of the perfection that was his erstwhile protégé. In the end, he knew Peter well enough to be able to respect the considerable maturity he held for someone of _any _age, and he resolved to do his best not to question him. 

Moments like these made it almost unbearably difficult not to, though. 

When he toed off his shoes they were the same height, and he could have almost blushed for the intimacy of their eyes meeting levelly in the dimmed light of his room. Peter pulled him to his chest, and they swayed together at the foot of the bed, tasting each other slowly, gently. 

Tony set his palms to the soft skin of Peter’s stomach and dragged them upwards, taking his shirt up as he went and eliciting matching moans from them both. 

Peter laughed at their accidental unison and it was easy, so easy and _good_, Tony thought as he chuckled along with him. 

He kept grinning as Peter’s hands found their way to his own newly bared shoulders and Peter groaned in delight as he sank his fingers into the muscles along Tony’s upper arms. 

“Find something you like?” Tony whispered into the line of Peter’s neck as he nibbled softly and kissed his way up. 

Peter huffed. “Yeah, all of you,” he retorted, and Tony had to hide a smile that was way too bashful for a man of his age underneath Peter’s chin. “But I’ve been dying to get my hands on your arms just for the past decade or so.” 

“Hmm, good to know,” Tony murmured, and he definitely did not flex his biceps at all so the quiet laugh Peter let out that swept warmth into his chest was for no discernible reason that he could see. 

Peter’s hands found their way down to Tony’s hips as Tony pushed off his pants and underwear all in one go, but they hovered there lightly, trembling faintly where they traced over his skin. 

He took Peter’s lips in another heated kiss as he placed his hands over Peter’s and pressed them down more firmly. Peter gasped into their kiss and sunk his fingers into the swell of Tony’s ass, heat seeping through his palms where they wrapped around him, making his toes curl as Peter crowded up to him and deepened the kiss. 

Kid knew what he was doing, Tony thought dazedly, then spared a flash of annoyance at the college-aged punks Peter must have been practicing with. Unflattering comparisons involving age and blemishes and long years of mistakes rose unbidden in his mind, and he couldn’t help but remember the way his father had turned away from his mother to lust after the young omega secretaries he always hired. The insecurity followed quickly after these thoughts, washing over him in an icy wave and stealing his attention. 

He opened his eyes when Peter drew back to find him staring at Tony in concern from where he was now leaning over him, pressing Tony down into the bed. Tony realized with a pang that he had been so busy running his mind over all his self-doubt like a tongue over a chipped tooth that he was missing out on the amazing moment that was actually occurring right now. 

“Sorry,” he said, trying one of his patented self-deprecating grins on for size. Considering how Peter’s eyebrows drew together in even more confusion, it wasn’t working great for this situation. 

“Tony?” Peter was asking, concern evident in his voice. “Are – are you ok? Is this too fast? We don’t have to – “ 

“No!” Tony half-shouted before he thought better of it. Peter recoiled a little, and he rushed to continue. “No, I’m ok, I don’t want to stop. This is just – I mean, you know, I – well…” 

He looked away over the bed, so that Peter’s confused face no longer filled up his vision. God, he was so fucking stupid. Here he was, getting his _shortcomings_ all over everything and complicating things unnecessarily and Peter apparently never even suspected he had all these hang-ups, _shit_. 

He took a deep breath and let it out, aware that he was making himself apparent in his vulnerability, and Peter hadn’t even drug it out or gone near it, this was all him rolling over and showing his soft underbelly for no reason at all, _goddamn it_. 

Then he was surprised as Peter rose gracefully to the occasion, the way he always did, and then he was surprised that he had been surprised in the first place. 

Peter somehow tucked Tony into his arms in a way that felt comforting, not entrapping, and he laid his head on Tony’s chest and dropped kisses onto the scar tissue there as they breathed together. 

Tears pricked at Tony’s eyes as he brought a hand up to rest on Peter’s back, and he tried to swallow them back, reminding himself that here in his alpha’s arms was the safest place in the world. That that was why he’d chosen this alpha to be his own, and for Tony himself to be – to be his omega. 

And just like that the dam broke loose, and Tony was horrified to find himself sobbing and shaking with it. Peter made a wounded noise and crawled up closer to him, wrapping his hand around Tony’s where he had brought it up to cover his face, pressed sideways into the pillow away from Peter. 

Tony had never once cried during sex. And they hadn’t even really started yet! Hands down, this was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him, _including_ the Great Rome Incident of ’98. He would ask Friday to shoot him and put him out of his misery if he wasn’t too busy drawing hacking, shuddering breaths into his worthless lungs that insisted on misbehaving. 

He still had a hand curled weakly around Peter, and he felt his fingers threading into Peter’s hair and doing their best to press them closer with the small amount of strength he could currently pull into his shaking arms. 

He let Peter draw his face towards him, but his eyes closed tightly against the tears that were spilling anyways, out of his control. 

“Tony,” Peter whispered, and after so many years of _Sir_ and _Mr. Stark_ it still made him shiver to hear his name in that mouth. “Talk to me, Tony. Please?” 

His forehead thumped against Peter’s as he let out a shaky breath. Of course, of course he would talk to Peter if he wanted, about anything. He’d rip open his artificial ribcage for Peter, anything he asked of him. So, he could do this. He could talk to him about why he wasn’t being the suave, experienced _catch_ of a lover he knew goddamned well he was supposed be and was instead this quivering, blubbering dumpster fire mess of a human being. 

Sure, he could do that. 

He opened his lips to explain what he barely understood, but to his continued, undying mortification what slipped out was instead a quiet, tremulous, “_Alpha_”. 

Sharp brown eyes flashed up to his in understanding, though what Peter understood Tony really couldn’t say seeing as how he had no clue himself what was going on inside his mind, and this was getting ridiculous, it really was, because he was crying again and he was _ruining_ it, dammit, Peter was never even going to speak to him after this – 

Every thought cleared his brain as Peter pressed his lips to Tony’s again. Face now full of comforting alpha pheromones, he opened his mouth to moan into the kiss as something settled deep in his chest, soothing the tightness that usually took up residence there. He thought he was going to be pushed away, but – that didn’t happen. 

Peter’s tongue was in his mouth now and his hands were cradling Tony’s cheeks, wiping the tears away in the same slow rhythm that his tongue probed inwards and Tony found that warm place in between them where he could rest and so he let go and didn’t even hesitate as he sank. 

“Tony,” Peter whispered into his lips. Tony was – actually purring now. He had closed his eyes against the feeling of it all, and he laid there quietly where he was bundled up in Peter’s arms, enjoying the unfamiliarity of the low vibration in his throat. 

“I’ve got you, Tony,” Peter was dropping kisses anywhere he could reach and talking around them like he couldn’t bear to stop doing either one. “Let me take care of you the way you always take care of me. Tony. _It’s ok_ .” 

It wasn’t okay, a voice in the back of his mind that sounded an awful lot like Howard reminded him. But it would be. They would make it okay together. 

He opened his eyes then, found Peter’s, heard him gasp as a look of surprise and awe crossed his face. Tony hoped he was showing everything he was feeling for the alpha – hoped he could see that despite all of Tony’s issues and his tendency to breakdown at the most inconvenient times, he was absolutely ready and willing to become Peter’s. That in fact at this point – he _needed_ to be his. 

Minutes passed in hazy bursts that felt like hours as they fell into place together. Their combined scents filled the air and saturated it as they twined their limbs around each other. Peter was the one to cry out as his hand found the slick heat of Tony’s center, at that first press inwards. Tony was too busy feeling the entire universe slot into place to really have too much to say about it. 

Peter rose on his knees long moments later and lined himself up with shaking fingers. Tony had to turn his head as Peter slid inwards with a gasp. He was trembling, pulling Peter towards him as Peter pressed his knees apart to lay flat on the bed, spreading him wide and open. He felt all taken apart and laid out for display, heart and mind and soul set neatly in a row for Peter’s perusal. 

Then Peter began to move and everything still left standing inside of him shattered into a million shimmering pieces. 

Tony grabbed onto the arms that held him steady and caged him in. He was dimly aware that he could barely feel his skin as preoccupied as he was with 50 years’ worth of hormones let loose and wreaking havoc within him, even the hot slide of Peter’s length between his legs a distant echo of sensation. 

Then Peter was grabbing him beneath the knees and pressing his legs up to his chest and Tony breathed in and looked into his lover’s eyes, snapping back into himself like a rubber band that had finally reached its limit. 

Eyes locked now, it was impossible to tear his gaze away even as Peter sped up the tempo of his thrusts and pleasure ignited in his veins, spilling outwards from the place they were joined to cover all of him in a hot, red glaze of heat, lightning sparking through every nerve ending and pulling Tony along with it, gasping, to the peak. 

Everything in him was bared for Peter to see, and Peter did see him, he _saw_ him and he smiled and he pressed forward and he took it, took everything Tony had to give and he kept it. 

And then as Peter shuddered, eyes closing briefly in rapture, his cock inside of Tony grew somehow even warmer and the knot at the base began to swell, and Peter leaned forward faster than Tony could even track and there were teeth in his neck and there was Peter’s knot growing in him and _there_, there was Peter to meet him. 

Everything the alpha had to give was spread out before him in return, in offering, joining him out in the open and pulling him back into the safety of their _together_. And so he reached out, towards Peter – and he took it. 


	3. Nosy Avengers

When the elevator doors ding open, they can smell it, all of them – Steve knows they can from the way backs straighten and shoulders tense and noses rise to the ceiling. Lips part for mouths to pant and taste the air. As one, they follow the scents through the compound, towards the suite of guest rooms set up for the Avengers who don’t stay there on a permanent basis. 

The others are looking around at the doors to the various rooms, but Steve’s eyes fall immediately on the one at the very end of the hallway. Aided by his enhanced senses, he knows that’s the room that captivating smell is coming from. 

He leads them down the hall, and a little niggling voice in the back of his head tries to tell him to leave, to turn around, that this is none of his business and he best not intrude. He hears the voice, he really does, but in the face of the compulsion leading him to the doorway he’s unable to take control back over his body and do anything differently. 

As he reaches for the doorknob, the rest falling in behind him, he hears it. Slick sounds of skin hitting skin, a bedframe creaking, then – a long, low groan. 

Steve turns the knob and swings the door open in the next second, letting the combination of alpha and omega pheromones wash over them. 

There’s a long, drawn-out moment where nobody moves. Teammates crowded around his back, Steve can’t help but stare, eyes locked with one of the occupants of the room, the one lying on his back on the bed – Tony. 

Tony’s draped sideways over the bed, head hanging over his shoulder as he stares back at them. He’s all tan skin and sweat glistening over muscles and flushed arousal, but his eyes are wide, and his mouth hangs open, surprise warring with desire. 

At first his eyes are blank and uncomprehending until the interruption sinks in, then they shift to haughty and challenging, a combination well known to Steve and everyone else in there – the playboy caught in the act, and what of it? 

But then, oh _then_, and Steve’s heart sinks as he realizes what he’s done, what they’ve uncovered and forced into the open away from that private moment that had been protecting it. _Then_ the look in Tony’s eyes changes again, as realization sets in and pleasure gives way to dawning horror, shame, and fear. 

For a minute Steve’s mind rebels against this, against what he’s seeing – but then Tony pulls into himself, pupils constricting as he moves to hide, and as his thighs shift on the bedsheets the sharp-sweet tang of omega slick wafts further throughout the room. 

Steve opens his mouth to say something, anything, though he has no idea what, when a low growl stops him and has his eyes snapping up to the other person he hadn’t even thought to notice yet. He finally sees the figure crouching over Tony, curled around him protectively, and Steve’s jaw drops even lower as he takes in the form of Peter Parker wrapped around the omega. 

The alpha’s hair is plastered to his skull with sweat, and his face is red with exertion but paling fast in anger. The boy curls his lip, baring the teeth undoubtedly matching the angry-red mark bitten into the cord of Tony’s neck. As he moves to place his body in between the one in his arms and the sudden interlopers, his omega gives a small cry and shudders, revealing where they are still bound together between his legs. 

The growl increases in volume, and Steve suddenly snaps back into his right mind. He whirls with a gasp and begins shoving his errant team members back into the hallway. 

“Sorry,” he manages to force out as he fumbles for the door. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.” 

Sweat dampening his palm causes his hand to slip on the knob and the door slams shut with a bang. He takes a deep breath of fresh air and continues herding the rest of the team down the corridor and away from the scene they had no right interrupting. 


	4. Post-battle rut

It happens sometimes, after particularly long or dangerous battles. When the civilians have been confirmed safe, when the enemy has been detained and carted off, when Tony’s been checked over and given a clean bill of health. Tony takes them both home to the tower, then, and they bathe and eat hastily because they know in a few hours Peter’s rut will hit. 

It’s not as long or as intense as the seasonal, semi-annual ones are. Tony figures it has something to do with being exposed to prolonged danger alongside your omega that spurs your average genetically-enhanced alpha superhero into a hormonal fog of life-affirming sex. Or something. He’s not really planning on asking around to the others in their line of work or some random medical professional to try to figure it out. 

He just takes his boy home so they can try to prepare as best as they can before it starts. It’s no hardship in Tony’s mind. In fact, it’s actually kind of…nice. Gratifying. That it’s tied to _him_ and not just some biological quirk. They figured out it was dependent on Tony pretty quickly the one time he actually was injured badly in a fight, and Peter’s rut politely waited to start until the day he’d been released from the hospital, over a week after the actual battle. 

Tony much preferred Peter’s ruts to his own heats anyways. Being the one responsible for them both during that time, having to look after Peter while his alpha was reduced to an overactive hypothalamus and focusing only on _him_ – yeah. Honestly, he loved it. 

The only part he wasn’t a fan of was how wrung-out Peter usually was when the rut first started, but Tony was always there to hold him up and build him back together again, so in the end it all works out. 

He’s pulling Peter on top of him now, running his hands soothingly up and down all the skin he can reach and digging his fingers in briefly wherever he feels a muscle knotted up in tension. 

Peter has his face jammed under Tony’s neck, arms wrapped around his shoulders, his hips making aborted little thrusting motions into the warm vee of Tony’s upper thighs. 

Tony holds him and shushes him gently, pressing kisses into the sweat-damp hair at Peter’s temples as he waits, sinking into that perfect feeling of _rightness_ as his body prepares to take care of his alpha. 

When he can tell that he’s slick enough, the area between his hips hot and loose and ready to be filled, he opens up for Peter completely and sighs with enjoyment as he guides him safely inside. 

Peter stutters and chokes as the head of his cock pushes past the first tight ring of muscle, then he’s sliding home so quickly and with enough force he has Tony seeing stars. 

They stay like that for a long minute, listening to their bond sing along with the feeling of being joined together, that quiet stillness where the universe stops spinning around them and everything is goodness and _right_ in the world. 

Then Peter is thrusting into him, desperately and without rhythm, so Tony gathers him up and clenches around him to coax him into a smoother, deeper pace. Peter sinks into it with a sob, and finally he can lift his head up from Tony’s shoulder to rest his forehead against his omega’s while Tony kisses him through it. 

Peter’s surging into him now, the waves after his storm breaking onto Tony’s shores. He’s the coastline to his alpha’s ocean, but he’s also the driftwood bobbing along, caught up in the center of it. 

Later, when Peter’s knot has finished swelling inside of him and he can feel his own come sliding on his stomach between them, Peter finally comes back into himself, light shining again in his eyes. 

His entire weight is resting on Tony, caught safe within the circle of his omega’s arms. Peter’s resting his head on Tony’s shoulder and playing with the hairs on his chest now, sleepily, only tensing up occasionally as the aftershocks of his orgasm travel through him. He’s still coming inside of Tony, weakly now, but he shudders and his eyes lose focus, lost in pleasure, with every tremble that seizes him. Tony holds him through it. 

Finally it’s over, for now anyways, his boy resting on his chest, eyes blinking closed and mouth relaxing the way it always does when Peter is falling asleep. Tony tightens his grip and smiles, so the last thing his alpha knows before drifting into slumber is the curl of his lips and the promise of his strength, holding them close until he’s conscious again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Join me in pro-shipping, multi-shipping, Tony Stark stan hell on [tumblr.](https://copper-mouth.tumblr.com/) Sadly, I'm not brave enough to post Starker content on there...yet.


End file.
